The Wolfman Salvations Cursed
by TheEclipsed
Summary: This follows after the Wolfman movie when Detective Abberline was bitten,he meets a young hunter all characters belong to the creators I have no ownership of them. In some chapters there will be use of profanity, nudity and violence. Read with commonsense
1. Chapter 1: The Hunter Blackston

Note: All characters belong to the creators I have no ownership of them

Chapter one: The Hunter Blackston

Winter had set in and no one payed attention to the rider that came down the lane looking at the once standing Talbot Hall. The stranger wore a fedora of sorts but their face was shadowed by the fading sunset. Only their eyes showed and they were emerald fire, keen and sharp. Taking in the burning wreckage with a thoughtfulness of some traveling archeologist with the mind to unearth a mystery long past. Long Copper like hair tied up and back with the sides down either side of a pale but almost oval face. Female both in shape and body beneath the weathered traveling cloak. Seated upon a strong Roan of chestnut color now cinnamon in the fading light, she wore not the clothes of a lady but of a riding gentleman so to speak. Long boots, form fitting but comfortable pants, with a long sleeved shirt that had a vest that conformed to her curved form, long jacket moving with the breeze stirred upon the moor.

Upon each arm were leather forearm bracers most common to archers in the long past. Shin guards on the boots leather and metal. Gloves adorned her delicate hands that gripped the reigns with expert tightness of an experienced rider. Her ears pierced not once but thrice. A gypsy cuff was in the top most left of her ear as she wore upon a silver chain the silver coin and metal of Saint Columbanus. The saint was kneeled and depending on the person gazing at the metal one could say it looked like he was warding off the wolves around him to others it would be more like the saint praying as his end was about to be loosed upon him.

The young rider gently dug in her heels and coaxed the horse to go for the town, which had the roads and quickest way, she wanted to get to London and the train was the fastest. She was wary around people as they were her, strangers were not welcome here. If they knew not from whence you came you were as good as sin here. She ignored the small village town's inhabitance; she had a higher purpose and urgent matter to pay attention to. The old Vicar looked her over and began to ask questions with his assembled mass not too far behind.

"Who are you?" He asked it sharply the suspicion was not hidden from his voice. The young woman did not answer. She fit a slender cigarillo to her barely pouted thin lips and struck a match upon the saddle, the light caught in her emerald fire eyes and made them glow in its dance before she took a long draw and flicker its life out. The light slowly fading off her eyes again putting her in the twilight of the darkness, but her ignoring of the Vicar only made his face go hard as he debated the dangers of pursuing his advances. "Why do you not answer, perhaps you are a beast that rides through to afflict what has been cured!" She bit the end of her cigarillo watching the Vicar and the restlessness he caused in the men looking away and to the tracks. The train was coming. She straightened and ignored the Vicar once more looking over the letter again that had been addressed to her from a childhood friend. The red seal broken having once bore the symbol of the house of Conliffe.

She ignored the man's inane chatter over revelations and repenting as the stage hand pulled back the door for cargo and took the offered reigns. "You'll be the Beast Hunter Blackston?" She inclined her head moving her coat to put the letter back in her inner satchel the belt that nearly hung sideways off one hip had a row of silver bullets carved upon by such ornate design of different cultures. With twin berretta pistols that bore also elaborate designs. At the small of her back was a curled whip with silver tassels at the end of each cat of nine tails. In the saddle was a rifle of expert timeless craftsman ship. Along the vest in twin holster like sashes were delicate sword knives of steel and silver. Each hilt bore the medallion symbol of saint Columbanus. She wore a bracelet that was weaved of some material but it was native American Indian in design. The other was oriental. Maybe from China, a sign of travel in far off lands.

She glanced to the old Vicar, the look of her sharp eyes as the moonlight caressed upon her face made Pastor Flick flinch. The right side had twin scars that ran parallel to each other. One over her right eye the other along the end of her eye but they both ended before the start of her lips yet not deep enough to blind her. It marred the beauty she had but at the same time enhanced it. Ms. Blackston tipped her hat to pastor Flick and the other men around him before passing the conductor and boarding the train for London sitting at a window seat. They had all gone about their separate ways and only the Vicar still stood there at the platform. Watching her as she watched him, mumbling his silent complaints and prayers that whatever had summoned the young hunter would stay in London and not bring back the disaster and cursed despair back to Blackmoor.

She settled back into the seat and pulled down her Fedora and let it cover the expanse of her vision, legs crossing as she did her arms letting the noise become background pretending to sleep as she sifted through her thoughts. She had seen the papers, heard the stories, of a man gone beast. Of the timelines and theories, oh she believed in what Gwen had spoken of. She had seen it firsthand but not in England. No she had seen it in Ireland when a man had, like Sir John Talbot, returned from India. She bore the mark of the encounter. Reading the letter of her friend she learned of another that had been bitten by such a creature. His name was Francis Abberline, a detective of Scotland Yard, a man who had seen the impossible but did not believe the warnings that now the Goddess of the Hunt would call him out as the new beast upon the fullness of her reign in the black sky.

It was foolish, but the moon would be full and rise in less than a week and she was given till then to find this man and decide his fate. Not all men who became beasts were truly evil; some could live and atone with the sin put upon their soul. She fell asleep as the train moved onward in its journey to London.

LONDON, TRAIN STATION

DECEMBER

Many Patrons waited for the train to pull up and get on for destinations elsewhere. It was here where the dark beauty Gwen Conliffe waited for the arrival of her friend, one who hadn't been able to come to save poor Lawrence Talbot from the releasing sins of a silver bullet she herself had fired. The side panel doors were opened for the cargo as horses were lead off by stagehands. All except for a deep chestnut roan that was lead off by a young woman in the oddest attire for their day and age. Immediately Gwen took in her form and recognition was instant. "Rhea," She said to herself and moved through the crowd as politely as possible. Coming to the end of the ramp as she did with the roan, her heart beating a little faster, she hadn't seen Rhea since they had been children though they kept in letter correspondence almost all their life.

She cleared her throat gently to venture a soft, "Rhea?" Her eyes hopeful that this was indeed her friend but the smile faltered a moment when the woman locked eyes with her and she saw the scars. "Gwen," she said with a smirk and light roughness to her voice from disusing it so much it seemed. She gave Rhea a tentative smile and watched as she mounted and took the proffered hand mounting behind her. Rhea rode through London not caring for the looks of the other people in the streets, they could stare all they wanted for all she cared. Settling in at the home of the Conliffe's she sent letter to Scotland Yard requesting the presence of a one detective Francis Abberline. She then went into the basement of the Conliffe home and set to work on the iron wrought door to replace it with the one she had ordered previously.

It was near nightfall when she finished and went upstairs to clean up, sitting upon one of the chairs. Lost in thought as the rain drove on with the threatening promise of snow fall, paying no heed to Gwen as she answered the door and allowed in the person from the step outside.

Francis Abberline had read the request letter over and over again thinking and turning over this strange news in his mind. Like a puzzle that was long left undone and he had finally gotten around to finishing its mystery. The penmanship was neat and flowing without pause or breaks, whoever wrote this could have been an accomplished artist or writer. He was thankful regardless of the cool rainy evening, lately he felt as if he was catching fever or that the world around him had grown too hot, his shoulder was itching but not as badly as an hour ago when he had wanted to tear off the bandage. To scratch until the flesh gave under his fingers and cease its maddening march. Yet the detective composed himself as he saw the shadow grow upon the window pane of the door to the Conliffe home and shop.

She was still the same as she had been the day he had met her during that whole affair with the Talbots. She let him in as he took off his hat and coat as was polite and followed her inside. The house and shop had not changed much since he had raided it but was repaired of any damage. There by the fireplace looking out the window was Gwen's friend who had requested him. She was actually very young of twenty to twenty-two. Pale fair like she didn't see much sun. She had soft curve to her face that made it almost oval, ending in a flat but not pointed chin. Face soft but no longer that of a child he could see the soft start of raised cheekbones, delicate brows having the slightest arch to portray intelligence upon her countance, lips not too thin but having the slightest pout to them. Face passive and calm with a blank tranquility as her emerald eyes that burned more than any flame was lost in the rain and embers of the firelight.

Copper bangs streaked upon her forehead and over a spot or two of those eyes the sides of her hair down while the rest was pulled up and back with a leather clip bearing the crest of the house of Blackston. It was a winged knight whose wings sheltered over a beast rather saving it or slaying it he couldn't tell. Her dress was unusual; he let his cold sharp blue eyes travel to take her in more. She was very lithe and curved. She wore long leather boots that buckled off to one side. Her pants were black and fitted to her legs like a second skin yet were comfortable as they were form fitting. She wore a white and black tasseled shirt with a black vest over it with delicate gold etching in designs of a griffin on both sides, both taloned paws raised and on the hilt of a sword. It fit her form and was comfortable but accentuated at the same time. Not causing discomfort or hiding her full but average bust. He finally noticed her twin firearms on the table beside her with her whip and belt hanging up with a secondary holster belt of knives. Her hands were still gloved with the leather bracers. Fingers interlaced, her ears were also pierced in odd fashion and it made him grip his cane. The wolf of silver of the sword cane ever watchful was little comfort to Abberline in the presence of this strange woman who felt like a hunter.

"Rhea," Gwen said softly trying to break the strange woman from her thoughts and she didn't turn. Speaking with softness but every tone carried authority of wisdom of some strange kind in her being that he found himself unable to look away or listen to the world around him. "You may go Gwen, please take a seat Mr. Abberline." She gestured to a chair for him already prepared and he thanked her for the offer watching Gwen take her leave. "I know you have questions Mr. Abberline and I will try to answer them." She arched a delicate brow. "I know of your tale and experience with the Talbots, I I had an encounter in Ireland. The beast is in men but only with the bite of a werewolf and wolfman can coax that primal destiny we have put behind us when we decided to become civilized creatures."

Abberline listened carefully and gripped the cane a little at the pointed remembrance of his experience at Talbot Hall, something he was reminded with everyday as it was with the healing wound. He hoped this was not a person out to get a story; he had had enough of those already upon his return to London where he had to explain everything to his superiors and the public at large. His thoughts stopped on this accusation the moment she looked at him squarely, eyes meeting and locking. Abberline's hand twitched, the right side of her face bore twin scares that tailed a different tale altogether but ones he knew well enough in his pursuit with the beast. Rhea just watched him without change of expression though she watched him. He saw the firelight reflect off her medallion of saint Columbanus.

"I have a feeling you didn't come here and request me then for just a friendly chat." He mused; he felt the weight of her gaze and for the first time in a long time Abberline wanted to squirm out of his skin and leave. She arched a brow. "No, I did not. You Francis Abberline of Scotland Yard were bitten by the Wolfman Lawrence Talbot, you bear his mark." She said it with such finality he nearly flinched as he gripped the sword cane just a little harder feeling the comfort of its weight in his grip. Looking away from her gaze he licked his dry lips as if lost in thought and picked up his tea that Gwen had put down for him. He looked up and nearly jumped, Rhea Blackston was there and she pulled his jacket and pushed the shirt. "Now," she said with authority both Gwen and Mr. Conliffe grabbed his arms with all their strength as she cut apart his bandages. He stared, hit with such confusion until his mind caught up with everything that was happening and started to struggle with startled outcry.

He watched as she held a knife but he didn't think it was silver yet still that primal instinct in him that was all survival, kill or be killed, kicked in at the sight of the sharp metal. Yet she put it down tearing the bandage as he winced. "Oh my god," Gwen breathed and there where Lawrence had bitten there were faint markings almost the entire wound was closed. It shouldn't have been. It didn't seem to faze Rhea who took out a vial and poured the clear liquid over the wound. Abberline gasped, it was colder then snow and made the wound feel on fire but ate at it, numbing his arm and shoulder his mind felt a strange haze after a moment, like the world was seen through a fog of glass. "What have you done to me?" She traced and examined the wound to bind it with bandages that smelt of sage and other plants. Natural, "Giving you a chance," she said without pause and took off her medallion to slip it around Abberline's neck. To do so required her to be close, Abberline in his daze could hear the heartbeats in the room. Mr. Conliffe's heart was like a rabbits running from the fox, Gwen's wasn't as fast but it wasn't normal either. Yet Rhea's was soft, slow, calming. Abberline could hear it, taste the salt and sugar in her blood, and smell her skin. It was vanilla and yet somehow winter, like the forests when it snowed he had seen and been to in his travels and childhood.

He felt heavy but caught her arm breaking Gwen's grip she gasped but Rhea didn't move as she felt Abberline lean almost falling forward that he was in the crook of her neck. She looked up at the top mirror that caught the reflection of the mirror beside the fireplace she could see Abberline's blue eyes dazed and lost. She held a hand up and out they let go and she titled her head her neck was exposed running fingers in Abberline's Auburn hair also brought him closer. She could feel his breathing on her neck go deeper as a shiver chased down his spine. She felt his weakening grip as a groan pulled from him; the maddening itch finally stopped and left him alone. "Sleep now Abberline, your safe now." Abberline heard her words in that fog of a daze and they were so tempting that he gave up his consciousness to the welcoming blackness.

Gwen watched as she slowly pushed Abberline back into the chair and with the help of Mr. Conliffe got him upstairs to her bed she was going to use and tucked in the detective. Downstairs she collected things and burnt his old bandages examining his cane in her hand as she felt the reassuring weight that was a comfort of stability. "What did you give him?" Gwen asked softly and Rhea looked to her gently on the landing. "Morphine and Wolf's Bane, "With that she said a soft goodnight to Gwen and stepped into the room to sit in the chair by the window watching the Sleeping Abberline in the soft crescent of the moonlight.


	2. Chapter 2: Comfort Damnation

Chapter Two: Comfort Damnation

LONDON

CONLIFFE RESIDENCE

The morning sun rose and Abberline could feel the warmth of the rays but they were faint compared to the fever that ran rampant in him. He had slept in darkness but now in his sleep he dreamed. He dreamed of Talbot Hall, the creature that had once been a man that bit him savagely, clamping down with might jaws into his shoulder cutting into flesh as if it were butter. Blood splattered in mist upon the heated tile of what had once been a floor, those teeth of ivory knives ripping through muscle and tendon, getting to his bones with a crack to shake its massive maw to and fro. A living rag doll that could not sate its hunger and savagery, and the pain that went with it, searing and uncontrollable.

Rhea woke gently to the tossing and turning of the man in her bed. She watched his features contort in some ghostly agony as he silently screamed in pain and fury, a nightmare. It contorted his gentle but stern features. His face a bit pale and lined with sweat, his mustache a little mused. Hair tussled with bed head. Rhea got up and took a damp cloth that was cold and sat on the bed pressing it to the man's forehead. He wasn't young but not old either, she assumed his mid thirties. She wiped the sweat away and leaned letting lips trace his ear and softly whispered, "Abberline." In his ear feeling his fingers twitch where they tangled in the bed sheets.

Abberline shivered in that dark world but then looked up to breathe in; there it was again, vanilla winter. It filled and moved through his senses and he felt a gentle cold filter through him that helped tone down his fever. That same smell and gentleness he felt last night was back and it beckoned to the frail side of him and that side of the animal all men had in their souls that sought some kind of understanding. He felt the tightness in his chest ease and he could breathe, the darkness didn't feel so threatening anymore and his dreams fell away as if they were made of some kind of chalk and melted away to the droplets of the rain. Listening with all his might he strained his ears and there it was that soft patter of a heartbeat. It was clear and calming, the one that called to him from last night.

He wanted to be closer to it, to wrap it around him like a child did the security blanket. Rhea blinked as his breathing calmed and started to slow. She rested a hand on his chest with the barest press as her eyes half closed, there, his heart rate was slowing. Easing his storm, but she saw his hand detangle and reach for something invisible. Curiously she touched fingers along his palm and found her hand being taken. His grip was tight at first but eased and she felt him softly pull that she slipped in the sheets he had tangled and that she was nearly atop of him. Abberline moved into the line of her body over him and found that smooth expanse of her neck and rested there. Rhea was still tired from watching over him and decided to damn it all and moved up off him. Abberline made a sound in his throat that was a mix between some kind of groan and growl.

His grip tightened. Abberline felt that warmth smoothness press near as he got close only to feel it start to move away. He didn't like that the darkness pressed back upon him like the nightmares when they knew the parent was away and couldn't stop them. Abberline gripped onto that comfort, he didn't want to let it go, he wouldn't let it go.

Rhea realized she was the cause and whatever it was about her was attracting Abberline or comforting him. Rhea sighed softly and fell forward in his grip and moved that she was on the bed half on his chest. Chin resting on his shoulder she felt him move into her neck like before and she settled there. Letting her eyes close. Absentmindedly she ran fingers through his auburn hair and against his cheek. Heard his breathing deepen and it lulled her to sleep. Abberline himself felt that comfort give in to his demand of loneliness and wanted to shiver and took the advantage. For once feeling the dark close in on him but the darkness was welcomed this time and it was dreamless.

Abberline awoke to the caress of his cheek and found Gwen's friend there. She watched him to stop him from moving or speaking. "Don't try to push it, you're tired, your fever is still high." She said softly and he could feel the sweat as clothes clung to him but he soon found himself in sleeping clothes, the detective frowned and threw a questioning glance at her. It amused Rhea that she smiled and for a moment he felt his annoyance wane even despite the scars when she smiled there was beauty there. Enough he could stare at her for but a moment and forgot what he was going to ask. "Mr. Conliffe changed you after we brought you home." Indeed looking around the small but sparse room Abberline found he was back at his own home. He looked to her and took her hand before she left his side if that was what she was planning on doing.

Rhea stopped from rewetting the rag in her other hand grabbed by Abberline. Eyes on each others, Abberline was glad he had a fever it hid the flush of his blush, a bit flustered with how easy he was bothered. "Thank you Ms. Blackston," he paused with the barest of a smile," for your care." She tilted her head a bit with a nod, "don't thank me yet Abberline." She smirked more but rose a glass to his lips and the cool water spread through his chest into his stomach and he suppressed a shiver. Abberline on the other hand was confused by her statement but Rhea caressed his face with the cool damp cloth.

"You know as well as I you will become a beast when the full moon rises." She said gently meeting his gaze seeing the slight haunting of memory in his sharp blue eyes chased grey. She didn't like reminding a man of his pain, but she had to get through to him where Gwen had not. "Deny it all you want but you saw a man change in that Asylum into a beast ruled by the cruel Goddess of the Night, even you can't escape her silvery claws of her injustice." She saw him look away as if the outside world could make this conversation end or go away. She could see the muscle in his jaw tensing. She caressed his cheek. "I want to help you and I can more than Gwen could when she tried to help Lawrence Talbot. The only question is do you trust me to help you?" She said it honestly that when he turned to look at her he really couldn't see any kind of lie.

Being a detective Abberline was very good at being a sort of human lie detector, but looking at Rhea he couldn't detect any. "Just how could you help me?" he asked it though because he really wondered if she could help someone as damned as him, if he was damned.

Rhea pressed the cold cloth to his skin that sent another wave of soothing comfort through him. "I have erected a cage of sorts in the Conliffe's basement that could hold even a bear or tiger if it needed to. All iron and stone, stone and Iron to hold you away during the night of the full moon. People will be safe as will your hands of blood; it is a mercy that wasn't given to Lawrence." She traced his mustache down into the sideburn watching her fingers getting a soft far off look. She didn't see how Abberline watched her. For once Abberline welcomed the senses his curse brought him, listened to the soft heartbeat, and tasted the salt and sugar of her blood. Even though he felt a bit disturbed at himself he couldn't help but think how sweet her skin would have tasted, skin that he knew was soft to the touch and smelled of Vanilla winter. It made him swallow a little hard as if his mouth had suddenly gone dry. Abberline felt her touch and froze to be still so it didn't stop.

"Think it over at least, for now rest." She leaned and tended his shoulder with that strange tonic from before. Abberline slowly fell back asleep under the strange incense she burned, the smell of her skin, and the soft feel of her touch. Thinking of her words till what he felt chased even that away into the welcoming darkness.

Abberline had healed unnaturally so and he suddenly felt more restless. Like nothing could hold his attention. His shoulder didn't itch but he did feel the barest burn. Looking to the Calendar he realized that it was going to be the full moon tonight. The implication of his denying mind clawed at him as much of as his fear at the cages of his chest and soul. What if people were right, what if he was cursed? How many would die by his hands this night? The innocence he would rend to nothing, but he remembered then Gwen's friend Rhea. Thinking of her made him grip his cane as his brain recalled the memory of the young woman. Of the softness in which she spoke to him, of her smell and nature, he looked down at the silver wolf head of the cane. His knuckles had turned white against its solid mass. Closing his eyes he could remember ever vivid detail of the young hunter.

He had tracked her down the day or so before to see her skill with blade and gun on the hunt with Mr. Conliffe. How she moved in the saddle, her balance, her judgment. A few men had been hunting real wolves and she had defended them as if they were children, the image struck a chord in Abberline as it had that day. It crossed with the feeling she gave him, protection and comfort at the same time. He had felt anger when the wolf she had approached bit her as she tried to set it free. Yet she had shown no anger or hate at the beast but held out her hand to the frightened animal that strangely enough had abased itself to her and licked the wound. It allowed her to pet the wolf. She was not normal, from the way she behaved, lived and sheltered.

Abberline opened his eyes looking out his window. "Rhea," he said softly to himself and blushed in a way feeling flustered again. He was attracted and infatuated with the young Blackston. He wondered if it was just his being a man or being human. It had been years since he had lost his own wife and their child. The sorrow of it had helped shape him into a man that was a bit rough around the edges yet those edges seemed careworn now since he the whole Talbot case. Hating the restlessness he picked up his bowler and coat putting it on before he gripped his cane and left into the cold London air of the mid day. A walk would help him clear his mind to decide his fate and rather to deny or accept the inevitable truth.

Lost, he had no real destination or sense of direction but come sunset he found his feet had taken over and steered him to the direction of the Conliffe's residential block down the teeming London streets. He blinked a little confused as to why his feet would lead him to this particular block, he knew Mr. Conliffe was gone and away on business, he wasn't even sure Ms. Conliffe and Ms. Blackston was there. He didn't have too much time to really think about it, the lanterns cast light over the streets and he looked up and back to find the clouds parting and revealing the illumines globe of the moon. The Goddess of the Hunt revived and stalking her child with new found challenge and hold of sway.

Abberline blinked up at it finding it strangely beautiful before he felt a wave of nauseating pain well up in the shoulder and pit of his stomach. It caused him to double and he fell into the alley. His chest hurt. Abberline crawled out of the street gripping the cobblestone road with fingers that were no longer his own, trying to pull himself with hands that had become nightmare shapes of twisted carnage. He heard the rip before he felt the cold wet of the London Street pushing with twisted and malforming feet.

"God…help me!" he begged, but the words were lost to the world as they became a twisted roar in a mouth no longer meant for human speech. Collapsing before he could even fully stand onto his knees, the light from the streets were far too bright, meager glows somehow transformed in his eyes to radiant sunbursts. Feeling bones thicken and widen to the thickening muscle and sinew, his eyes changing, shifting. It was the most nauseating thing in the world and was getting even worse.

Senses exploded as sights and sounds and tastes flooded in impossibly fast. Everything sharpened that he grabbed his head covering his ears feeling the flesh ripple as the ears started to point. He could smell the different scents of people that had passed, that were still milling about on the late evening. Spans of seconds made him see grains of dust – each separated from each other and unique to their own speck of a world – all floating on the London night breeze. His body felt aflame and itched like crazy that he tore a bit at the flesh only to see it change color and thick auburn hairs spread from the pores. Fingers grew longer and bled as nails became claws.

Abberline was reduced to panting breaths as his head threw back and he cried out in twisted agony. Molars moved aside for more teeth as canines grew sharp and elongated to long points. Blood tracing his lips and down his chin. His tongue seemed to extend and loll before he snapped his mouth shut gripping his sides. His pants ripped as did his shirt as his body gained more mass. His body shuddered in downright convulsions he arched tearing off the vest his out cries lost in twisted roars. Turning over he saw his face changing in the waters reflection. The eyes that stared back at him was not the ice blue of Abberline but the hells fire of yellow of the wolf. Slapping the image the man known as Abberline faded into the savagery of the born Wolfman of London…a long piercing howl caressed the night greeting the Goddess of the Hunt in outcry of her newborn child.


	3. Chapter 3: Chasing the Siren's Wolf

Chapter Three: The Chasing the Siren's Wolf.

Rhea rode her roan prowling the night, Gwen at the back of her on her horse. She heard the howl and looked to the Goddess of the Hunt as she rose outstretching her arms to welcome London to her newborn son. "Abberline," She said softly and looked to Gwen. "This is where we must part, go back to her place, and make yourself ready." Gwen slid from the horse and looked up to Rhea touching her booted leg in which made her young friend gaze upon her. "Be careful Rhea, please." She kept her gaze for a moment and the moonlight caught in her eyes and the medallion around her neck making Gwen involuntarily flinch but Rhea nodded and dug her heels into the roan. Bearing down the old London Streets, she listened and watched the streets with expert ease. She could hear the howl's then the screams of the public. Coming out to the main parkway of the Abby she saw the hunkering form that had once been Abberline.

He was tall of near eight feet, mass fearsome with terrible muscle to support the heaviest of bones and tightest sinews. Rhea angled the horse to face the other way pulling out a slender silver whistle with designs on it but it was far too thin to be a policeman's whistle. Licking her lips as she steeled her nerves and courage she put it to her lips and lit out a long slow blow. Nothing happened. Well nothing happened to the people but to the wolfman who's ears could rival anything alive it hurt that he suddenly grabbed his head forgetting the woman he was about to gorge on. Whimpering with snarls and whines as his ears rang with it, looking up sharply the eyes of the wolf could see the retreating back of a woman on a horse. Again that shrill noise came from her. He gave pursuit, forgetting all the people there; he wanted the noise to stop.

Rhea spurned on the roan, she had a feeling danger was now at her heels and she wanted to bring it away from the public at large. Blowing harder again she could hear the shrill scream of a woman before the whimpering howling roar of the wolf in agony to the sound only it could hear. Rhea could see a carriage driver not paying attention only for the horses to start and turn the carriage. She pulled a gun that was a crossbow in small form and fired only what lit and fired was not that of a bullet. The dynamite charge took out the stairs clipping the carriage yet her Roan leaped the distance over the driver. Or at least till another got in the way and the Roan reared throwing her out of the saddle. She scrambled for purchase getting back on her feet and didn't stop running and pulling her berretta, the whistle was nearly snapped in half but she blew on it more for what was worth.

She was only human and she could feel the white hot pain lance through her body as something clipped her off her feet. Rhea landed hard and the wind left her as stars went before her eyes. She soon felt the shadow go over her to meet the yellow eyes of a beast. Rhea stayed still beneath the wolf. The wolfman snarled but she showed neither fear nor aggression. Waiting for his actions and for the right moment.

Abberline made lips curl back and snarled his teeth; drool fell onto the lapel of her jacket. He couldn't smell fear or predator though predator lingered. Yet there was something else there too, vanilla winter. Abberline hesitated. He knew this smell though it was from Abberline's memory and not the wolf's. The wolfman leaned closer breathing more as if to search her scent and felt familiarity. That familiarity wasn't a threat but a retreat. The moment was broken by the screams of people. He roared at them and she moved as he got up and pushed off running and hard. He turned seeing his prize flee and roared in frustration chasing her down she pulled out two strange objects and a long pipe. Gwen could see her friend running. Her breathing haggard, side of her face red. Her legs burned with fatigue and injury but she pushed it and Gwen gasped seeing that too familiar shape come around the corner in pursuit, the wolfman that had once been Francis Abberline.

She opened the back door and stayed behind hit as Rhea clambered up the steps. Rhea could hear the wolf and her own heart race in her ears as it beat like a rabid thing in her chest. Breath becoming wheezes she dived forward into the chamber basement as the wolfman missed her with his out stretching claws. She blew on the pipe and the strange darts came out whistling. Two hitting his flank, the others missed. A massive sweeping hand of a paw came down snapping the stick. She gritted her teeth hard enough she was surprised that none of them chipped. She felt the world beneath her shift and she was pinned. Trying to breathe, everything hurt. The wolfman leaned closed she felt its hand close around her chin and neck a bit as he leaned into her neck. She could feel his hot breath and flecks of drool. Closing her eyes she waited for death feeling him rear back and fate's decision…

Chapter Four: Addiction


	4. Chapter 4: Addiction

Chapter Four: Addiction

The Wolf had caught his prize and could bite her but as he howled he felt his strength depleting, a cool burning rushed through his veins that pumped blood fast through his body. That cool numbness returned the world was a haze. It was disorienting and he shook his head. Whimpering at this unforeseen enemy he could not fight. Rhea opened her eyes to dare a glance to the whimpering of the massive form above her seeing him shake his head. Gold amber eyes fogged with the drug of the potent sleeping draught laced with Wolf's Bane. She hesitated but slowly reached out, part of her to help the other part for pure curious fascination. She had never been this close to a Werewolf without killing it and that had only been once before. There was no point of turning back now she was still beneath him, he could kill her anyway. Her ungloved fingers took out the darts in his flank before going through the coarse auburn hair that was his fur. The skin beneath was black and thickened yet soft at the same time, burning hot with the heat his temperature gave off.

Gently touching the cheek and feeling the strong jaw muscle and sinew flex before she reached a tipped ear. The Wolfman froze to the touch and growled but smelt that vanilla winter to lower the growl. The drugs and the familiarity of Rhea only lulled the beast into a sense of security, a moment of Abberline slipping in those eyes knowing her. She grabbed his ear and rubbed it between two fingers along the tip she felt a shudder go through him like a real wolf his ears were sensitive. The commotion outside had died down and moved away from the Conliffe residential area, no longer feeling the hunger or lust he felt tired. Lowering slowly into her palm as his nose twitched she was steady with her touch.

Rhea watched his eyes get drowsy and start to blink lethargically, glad Gwen hadn't come down to investigate if everyone stayed away she could get him to sleep. Moving slowly despite the growl he uttered she sat up slowly. Touch still tracing. She showed him no quarter of fear, no hesitation, like facing the real wolves just last week. She wouldn't lie that he didn't frighten her but she remembered facing off with the one that scared her. The heartbreak when she had helped end the beast and taking the man with it, the sorrow and heartbreak of Gwen's tear stained letters.

Where did the beast and the man really begin and end? Touching him with both hands tracing along his ears and jaw to his lips that twitched barely showing those ivory fangs. Eyes on his she stilled her body as he started to move. The wolfman felt lulled by her and moved a little into her to rest it's head on her stomach and lower chest. Hearing the heartbeat of this siren before its eyes closed and found them unable to be opened again. She kept running fingers through his hair in an almost petting manner listening and waiting with abated breath trying to ease her storm and keep the heart calm.

Soon she heard the deep breaths of the wolfman as he slumbered to the drugs. With care she tested him and found him dead asleep laying his head back carefully and taking off her coat she covered his back and shoulders with it. But it had her scent that she watched his nose twitch in his sleep before it disappeared against her jacket. Slipping outside she closed and locked the cell door and bolted it tightly. Legs shaking still from the shock of everything and the exertion, her thigh burned and stung as cuts reopened and nicked muscle screamed in protest. It drew a gasp from her by the time she reached the top and she gripped the side of the wall so not to fall down the stairs. Gwen ran forward catching her before he knees gave.

"I'm alright, I wasn't seriously hurt or bitten, and he's asleep." She smiled to Gwen though it was filled with weariness. Grasping Abberline's cane seeing it in the corner, Gwen must have gone back and retrieved his things from the alley system. She leaned on it for strength to keep her upright; she let Gwen guide her up the stairs for the spare bedroom where she winced in almost outcry getting out of her clothes.

"I'll get a doctor." Gwen stopped short her hand snagged by Rhea, looking back it had hurt and it showed in her eyes. "No. No doctors, Abberline will be in danger. Just hot clean water and thread," She winced but let go of her slowly. Gwen didn't like this idea of not getting a doctor to make sure her friend was treated. Yet she did what she was told and had to look away as she started to suture her own wounds in tight but proper stitching. Taking bandages she wrapped her leg and then her arm just below the shoulder in comfortable sleeping clothes she was asleep before Gwen came back.

Gwen watched Rhea sleep, pale from blood loss and exhaustion, but as she said Abberline was safe now. Not only that, it was now confirmed that he was indeed bitten by Lawrence and the new Wolfman. Covering her friend in the blanket she moved her bangs and her eyes were drawn to her twin scars. Hesitating she traced them, wondering how she got them though Rhea never spoke of it. Rhea had seen dangers for years traveling with her family, now she was the last one of her family. Gwen thought on it and couldn't help but see the irony that like her family Rhea had become a hunter but instead of wild game and escaped Zoo animals she had become a hunter of Werewolves not once but now twice.

She leaned and softly blew out the bedside candle and let her sleep, going downstairs to keep watch of the shop.

Rhea stirred before the sun set and looked to the rise of the Goddess of the hunt, gripping her Manchester riffle, a gift from her father on his trip to America. The town had been gripped in fear of the Werewolf that had killed so many, both animal and people alike. She had even found a bear that had been no match, or what had been left of the bear anyway. She heard a twig snap and tensed turning gun against her shoulder poised but blinked. A wolf froze staring back, watching each other. A farmer beside her aimed and she grabbed his barrel yanking it down. "What the hell are you doing?!" She watched the wolf as its ears went up and it turned tail and fled into the woods. "It is just a wolf." She said casually and looked to the sky ignoring the sun but watching for the sliver of the full moon.

"The devil is a wolf and you-"She looked at him sharply and the look made the man flinch. "What you seek is not a wolf but a werewolf right? They are the size of a man, don't use it as an excuse just to shoot and save your damn bullets." She looked then to the men around her they rather grumbled or looked away having been put in their place. Rhea shouldered her riffle and started walking toward the estate grounds of the noble that had refused this little hunting party. She didn't like him, the man seemed cold, bitter, and without compassion for anyone not even his animals or servants. She didn't like the calculating look he gave as if the world was his to size up and take.

It was a look of any mad man's greed. Sir Timothy O'Shea reminded her of a trapped lion who stared you down letting you know the moment the bars were gone you were dead meat. She had tried to get a read on the man but he was deliberately secretive and she suspected he was the beast or knew who was. Her father didn't agree but then again when did he? Rhea walked the moor of Dublin the mists were starting to move inland with the cooling air, winter was on its way. She was glad yet disappointed it wasn't snowing. If it had been they would be able to really track the beast, snow was hard to hide footprints and marks of any kind. Yet thankful because if it had snowed the full moon would of shined upon its pristine surface and revealed her and the other men hunting the beast.

She breathed out in a slow sigh and could see the beginning of her breathing starting to form on the cold night air. She looked at the men who were shivering a little, she didn't blame them but she steeled her nerve. Her father had taken her on hunting trips around the world as his only child he wanted a child that was tough enough to handle anything thrown at her, or so he said. She figured he was just pissed because he hadn't gotten a son. Her mother would have hated it she was sure but her mother had died in childbirth with her brother. As her father had said her opinion didn't matter she was dead.

Rhea relaxed near the tree that she had made her post. Watching the sky darken and the moon soon to rise, she moved from her post quietly, straining her ears as she was taught to. Her father was in the Estate with Sir O'Shea. She heard glass breaking at the house and tensed looking up throwing her hand back to get men to shut up. Signaling for them to take their posts, she hadn't heard her father shoot, but she wasn't taking any chances. The Sheep had been blocked in here on the grounds, easy prey. They were already bleating in fear, something was there, something dangerous. Yet she stilled her body, waiting for it, hoping for it. She wanted to help the people she didn't care for the money as much as her father.

She kept to her feet ready to dash to where the best vantage would be; remembering all the stories the town's people had said she had a hard time believing it to be a damned werewolf. This was the perfect trap and she wanted to catch the bastard red-handed, wanted to face the killer who caused so many wolfs and other animals to be hunted in its place for no reason. Hearing men scream from the estate grounds she broke cover, going into the tree line at a steady pace and slipped into the hidden break in the estate wall staying to a tree her riffle ready. A man lay on the ground, body writhering as his hands pressed to a jaw that was clearly shattered on his blood masked face. There were broken bits of bone and teeth stuck against his chin almost embedded in his lips. His riffle had been snapped in half, like it had been nothing but a frail stick of wood.

"Oh God in heaven!" Someone yelled and she turned in watching the scattering men only to see the flash of movement as red splashed everyone nearby, one of them staggered forward as he dropped to a knee, geysers of blood shot up from his chest, neck and shoulders but there was no head. The head of the man sailed through the air hitting another in the head and chest as it hit the ground. Eyes rolled back with a face in silent scream of horror, tongue lolling out. People screamed further and the chaos started, Rhea froze transfixed and frozen. What the hell could have done that!? Her voice screamed in her head looking around for the creature or man or whatever could have killed like this.

People screamed as servants ran to get inside. Seeing men jerk and hold their stomach as their insides spilt, bodies like paper before the knife. She finally saw it, in the tattered clothing of what had been pants, a shirt and vest. She glared as the full moon cleared the rest of the clouds she didn't believe it but there it was…the werewolf of Dublin! His long black and grey hair becoming coarse fur, Snarling as drool fell in rivets upon the earth seething with his hunger and bloodlust. Prey eternal. Rhea stared at it and the gold eyes that burned beyond any hell fire, if it had been a man once truly there was no man there now. Yet the coldness seemed eerily familiar.

She snapped out of it and raised the riffle from where she hid looking down the sighting and braced her shoulder. Ignoring the world around her and slowly breathed out opening fire.

Rhea jolted awake to the clap of thunder that echoed her dreams of memory. She sat up gingerly and breathed out slow wincing to reach up and trace the edges of her twin scars before she took the cloth Gwen had left and wiped off her forehead. Getting up and testing her weight on her leg it wasn't as bad as last night she was going to have a bit of a limp. She gingerly got dressed it was very early. She went down stairs not bothering Gwen letting her sleep. She had fallen asleep in the chair near the door of the store, most likely to keep an eye and ear out for the police. She covered her with a bit of a throw blanket and went down the steps to the basement.

Peeking in she couldn't see anyone and keeping her hidden knives at her belt she moved into the cell locking it from the inside, looking in the darkness. She heard a growl and turned to see the wolf staring at her where it was crouched in the shadows. But it was weary and fell back asleep and she realized why as his form started to retreat, hair receded back and his ears shrunk and skin lightened. Fingers cracking and shrinking to proper size as claws became nails. She watched the wolf become a man. Filthy and tattered, claw marks gorged into the stone. She turned on a lantern she had placed down there the night before and went to him and kneeled. "Abberline…"

She whispered his name and touched his cheek. "Abberline…wake up Abberline…" A groan was her answer before the detective Abberline raised his head blinking to focus his adjusting eyes. Looking at himself he suddenly braced her arms in his grip looking up to her, sharp blue eyes panicked. "Did I…hurt anyone?" He shivered, "did I…kill…" He tried to get out what haunted him so. She smiled softly. "You nicked me a good round but you didn't bite me or kill anyone. I got you here and safely for both you and the people." A wave of relief passed through Abberline it was seen even physically. He touched her arm where he noticed the shirt was uneven and saw her wince. Before she could stop him Rhea found her shirt sleeve lifted and he caressed the bandage with tentative callused fingers.

Self disgust was what she saw. "I'm sorry…I-"She stopped him. "It's ok Abberline." She leaned resting her forehead against his and felt him lean she didn't stop him from resting his head against her chest hiding away. His grip was tight around her back where he held her and she let him. Fingers running in his dirty tussled hair, he breathed her in and found he could hear her heart beat like before. Taste the salt and sugar in her blood beneath the skin. Abberline shivered breathing her in and felt his heart pick up a little. His fingers ached as he fell into a stupor like daze slipping into the edges of her tunic the tips of his fingers caressed bare flesh and it was very soft. Swallowing a little he felt confused but touching her made that ache lessen. Looking up as her fingers glided in his hair he stared into her eyes. Breaking it to stand and let go.

Rhea blushed a bit when his fingers slipped into the edges of her tunic shirt she hadn't tucked it in and her belt was loose anyway. She didn't know why but she touched his arm taking the rag she had brought and cleaned his cut lip from earlier and the dirt. Watching what she was doing her didn't see Abberline's stare. He could hear her and her pulse, could see it on her neck as it moved. Yet the supple curve of his body near his got him to close his eyes for a moment, lips parting a little. Abberline held his breath opening them to gaze at her. He captured her wrist and she looked up as their eyes became locked. He could hear their hearts in his ears and they were matching. He leaned lips traced as he drew a breath. Could feel the heat on her skin as she blushed and heard her swallow as she was nervous but not moving away. They looked away breathing in as Gwen came in and spoke that the coast was clear and that a bath was drawn for Abberline. "I'll get you some new clothes." Rhea smiled and left after he got to the bathroom. Abberline closed the door and turned to rest his back against it shuddering.

Looking at his hands as they shook a little, he had imagined taking her lips and holding her close, to bite her neck and feel her. To hear her heart, breathing, pulse. He put his head into his hands shuddering at the feelings ripping through him. The senses, he could still smell her. He pulled at his clothes and tore them off tossing them into the fire before submerging himself in the hot water that didn't scold him as much as he though and scrubbed. Getting the London filth off him and to get Rhea off of him and thus his mind, addicted, laying back in the iron tub and closed his eyes. He gave up and let his mind go where it would…"Rhea…" he whispered and just let the warmth engulf him.


	5. Chapter 5: Giving In

Chapter Five: Giving In

Abberline stilled his nerve, he was a detective of Scotland Yard, had faced the Ripper murder cases for Christ sake. He could face a woman! A woman who had saved his life and those of the London people, he sighed and straightened his shirt. Going out he found Rhea redressed and ready to go out into the London streets. Abberline gently caught her arm and she stopped with her fedora in hand. "Please let me go with you?" She smiled and slipped on her hat to put his own bowler on him and holding his cane for him. "I would like that."

He couldn't help but smile, she had her quirks. Looping his arm in hers he stepped out into the London streets and breathed in his home. He could smell things he couldn't, his senses deeper. Yet his obsession was beside him and kept his senses more honed. He got a bit defensive feeling people around and felt a bit protective of Rhea. It was some sort of instinctual feeling. The rain had fallen earlier that morning and washed the city clean. He felt his mind run through situations of how things could go wrong, murders, deception. She stopped at a vendor and got them food to pull him to the side of the street park sitting with him in an area of nature outside of the direct parameters of the city.

Watching him slightly pick at his food, "Abberline…" She watched him blink and look up her eyes were softer. Abberline could see the gentleness there and it got him to drop his skeptic thoughts and get lost in the green warmth that was spring eyes. She offered a soft tentative smile. "I know you're a bit upset, I would be if I turned furry for one night a month a year." She kept his gaze, "but you don't have to feel such despair." He kept her gaze in return watching her, the way she said that gave him hope. "How and why?" She reached out and traced his sideburns watching her fingers before glancing up at him. "We can build you a cage, stay away from people at night on the full moon. Sir O'Shea did it and so did Sir John Talbot, but they let the beast win and terrorized and killed innocent people. The question is…will you give in or will you be like fair Lawrence and fight what you are?"

Abberline considered her words and they resounded in his soul, thinking of his conviction, his duty as a detective. As a man, he leaned and in the private moment he softly let lips trace and felt her shiver but it wasn't fear. Abberline kissed Rhea and let it break digging his nails into his palms to cause a bit of pain to keep him from pulling her close and acting on his lust and impulses. Rhea shivered and looked down and away. "I'm sorry," he apologized and looked away wishing in a way he could disappear like he used to in his cases. "Don't be," looking at her he saw the soft smile. He felt the tension he had been holding fade away.

Abberline walked with her the whole afternoon and back to the Conliffe home and shop. Letting him walk her in he had to leave back for Scotland Yard, he probably had a case already for him. Not to mention the mess of a possible sighting of another wolfman. Before he could leave Rhea leaned and kissed him softly that he froze. The cane almost dropped and he pressed leaning a little into the curve and lean of her body. Hand trembling softly he caressed her cheek and into her hair dropping the cane the other hand snaked around her back and pulled her into him. Kiss deep and with passion. Eyes closed tight, his heart racing, he felt hot. Breathing quickening he growled softly he felt her shudder.

She felt him move she pressed into the wall at her back she gasped softly and it only let him deepen the kiss. He could hear her heart racing as well as feel it as hers raced.

He broke the kiss to breathe as she did practically panting. She had dazed green almost brown hazel eyes. His own darker like a gray, she could feel his storm and it raced hard. He ran even hotter than before she felt a tug and her shirt was un-tucked to feel his hands caress and roam. She shivered a little because the look in his eyes gave no room for argument. No room for denial. She felt him lean more only to pull away and tug harder, leading her back out into the London streets. He wasn't comfortable here.

He took the side streets and slipped down back Alley's, able to slip past people and vendors to come to his own home flat. He stilled himself long enough to unlock it and go inside slamming it before turning and pinning her to it, lips finding hers and consuming. He growled more and gripped his fingers in a press against the door the wood softly cracked from the pressure. Abberline felt consumed and he had snapped giving into his inner self he had been struggling with since they met. Abberline groaned and could no longer fight it giving into to impulse and instinct. She shivered under the assault.

Hearing the wood crack and his body press making him break the kiss to breath. Feeling him kiss down her neck to her shoulder to bite softly and growl again she knew the danger but she felt the attraction to Abberline and made her fate. Tearing off his bowler she pulled at the jacket it fell and his shirt loosened. Abberline felt what she was doing and he groaned to pull her up and into his arms he pushed the door and went into his room to tear at her jacket and grip her vest tugging he heard the rip as he tore it off. Breath fast and heated he struggled with her clothing making him growl till they were naked. His hands roamed silken supple flesh.

Caressing up grabbing one of the full breasts as he kissed down her neck. Hot breath playing against it sent shivers down her spine; she felt the bed shift as his hand gripped her hip to her thigh and moved. She gasped and scratched him as she arched, head thrown back in soft outcry. But Abberline shivered and gripped the sheets, the scratches healing. He moved slowly and with purpose feeling how her body gave and kept him. Breathing deep and panted, shared. Eyes on each other, he gripped the sheets harder as her fingers traced his cheek.

The way her eyes captured him made him feel wanted and held to her thigh keeping her leg hooked around him. It was passion. Abberline buried his face into her neck moaning out. He could hear her breathing catch. "Francis!" she gasped it with a moan he shuddered and it was encouraging. Pulling her up as he turned she was in his lap and she looked down into his eyes. Moving together, moans, calls each other moving and taking the other it was a heated passion that was building. Abberline felt as if his heart was about to burst.

Passion building she screamed out his name and Abberline gripped the bed rail it bent. He fell damming consequences and not pulling out and leaving her body claiming her. His soul wanted to howl out like he did as a wolf to the full moon. He lowered her back to the bed and leaned over her gazing into her eyes. Both just breathing till they caught their breath. He damned it about going into the prescient and pulled her into his arms cuddling up to keep the body heat. Sleeping in his arms he traced her healing cuts but not even him noticed something…his eyes had turned gold.


End file.
